


You're Wrong

by SigmaCreations



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Angst, Bars and Pubs, F/M, Requited Love, Second Chances, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:02:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SigmaCreations/pseuds/SigmaCreations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the end of Season 9, Episode 1. What if Harry hadn't accepted that they couldn't be more together than they are right now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“We couldn't be more together than we are right now,” she says, her beautiful, blue eyes looking into his shining hazel ones that are brimming with tears that he refuses to let fall. He feels a lump in his throat and takes a deep shaky breath. _You're wrong_ , he thinks. He wants to scream and shout, he wants to shake her until she comes to her senses, and then he wants to kiss her senseless. But he does none of these things. He opens his mouth to say something, anything to change the subject, but what comes out of his mouth surprises them both.

“You're wrong,” he whispers. He sees her eyes widen in surprise but she says nothing, just continues to look at him waiting for him to elaborate though her gaze has turned wary. He takes a deep breath and says, “We could be more than this, Ruth. So much more...” She opens her mouth to contradict him, but he raises a hand up to silence her and ploughs on, his voice getting more steady and confident as he speaks. “I know we can't have what you've just described, but that's not what I was proposing. I don't care where we live and I don't give a fig about the neighbours, Ruth. I hardly speak to mine. Do you invite your neighbours round to tea, Ruth? _Do_ you? Because I know I don't. Hell, the only reason I know who they are is because they've been vetted. Most nights, I get home so late that I barely have time to take the dog out and have a bite to eat before I go to bed. And as for needing to hide what goes on here... well, that's probably a good thing. Most people don't _want_ to take their work home. They go home to relax, to be with their loved ones, to talk about anything other than work,” he continues in an exasperated voice.

His eyes are blazing and intense as he speaks, and he takes a step towards her, but she turns and looks away over the city. Taking deep breaths, he forces himself to calm down.

“I know my timing was awful. I _was_ a little emotional after Ros's funeral. I wish... I wish I could take it back. But you _must_ know that it wasn't a spur of the moment decision, Ruth. Ever since that day five years ago when you accepted my invitation to dinner, when I found out that you returned my feelings, I have thought of no one else. I have wanted to _be_ with no one else. I want more than what we have here on the Grid where, no matter how we feel, I'm still your boss and we can never have a relationship of equality. I want to be able to go to dinner with you, to go to museums together, to the opera, to the cinema, the theatre. I want you to be the last person I see every night and the person I wake up next to every morning. I want to get to know you. All of you, Ruth. Not just the brilliant analyst, but who you are deep down inside. What are your passions, your fears, your likes, your dislikes. I want to be able to touch you, to hold you and kiss you. I want to love you and make love with you,” he says gently, almost pleading with her.

He watches her face, but he cannot read it. Her eyes are still turned from him towards the bright city lights. He's bared his soul to her, and now that it's done, he doesn't regret it. He has nothing left to lose because, without Ruth, his life is empty, _he_ is empty.

He sighs, and turning to look out over the familiar view, he continues, “I can understand what you're saying, Ruth. That you don't want me; that you only want a platonic relationship with me. You obviously don't share my desires, and I will respect your wishes, but _please_ don't tell me that we cannot be more together than we are right now... Because it's a lie.” He pauses and takes a beep breath before continuing, “I'm not young any more, Ruth. I know I will never meet someone else. So, if you ever change your mind and would like to try again, just let me know. We can start over from the beginning and see where it leads us. Ask me out for a drink or dinner or something.” His voice breaks as he says, “I'll say yes. I'll always say yes to you.”

Harry takes one last look at her, and then he turns and walks away. His heart is broken and he feels empty, but he somehow also feels lighter now that he's finally spoken openly to her.

 

Ruth has no idea how long she stands there, but when she finally moves to head home, she's freezing, numb and exhausted. When she reaches her house, she has no recollection of how she got there, so lost is she to the outside world. Moving on autopilot, she puts down her bag, takes off her shoes, hangs up her coat, feeds the cat, and goes upstairs. She undresses by the bed, letting her clothes fall to the floor, and pulling back the covers, she slips under them and shuts her eyes. But she cannot sleep. She hears his words over and over again in her head, the hurt and desperation in his voice. They are both so changed, so broken. Tears begin to slide down her face onto the pillow, and soon she is sobbing, crying for herself, for Harry, for the missed opportunities, for the hurt and pain that is wedged between them, keeping them apart. She cries until she has no more tears left, and then slowly, mercifully, she falls into a deep, albeit restless, sleep.

 

* * *

 

Weeks pass and life continues following it's usual patterns, almost as if the conversation between them on the rooftop had never happened. Harry's resolved that things won't change. He knows that, despite everything, he still had a small hope left in him that his words would change something between them, but that hope is dead now. He feels so incredibly sad. If he was doing any other job, he'd probably concede that he's depressed. But, in this job, you don't have the luxury to be depressed. In fact, you don't really have the luxury to feel anything. That fact that he's found love in this difficult environment is a small miracle in itself. The only people in his profession that he knows who have succeeded to have a life together are Adam and Fiona. He thinks that their success was a result of their daring and almost happy-go-lucky attitude to life, which neither he nor Ruth possess.

 

Ruth has not been unaffected by Harry's words though on the surface this may appear to be the case. She's thinking deeply about what he said. She concedes that he's right; they could be more together than they are now, more together physically. It comes as a surprise both that Harry craves that physical intimacy and that she doesn't. She's never been a very physical person, but she remembers that, when she first fell in love with Harry, she'd felt a strong physical attraction towards him and that it had been one of the reasons that she'd refused a second date with him. She hadn't quite known how to deal with the strength of the desire she'd felt for him. Since her return to England, however, physical intimacy has not been something she's needed or craved. She finds it strange that she hasn't noticed this before, and she wonders why this is the case. She spends a lot of time analysing it.

She also wonders how Harry can desire physical intimacy with her and yet never once attempt to initiate physical contact between them. Even before she'd left, Harry had been physically awkward with her, unable or unwilling to express his feelings for her through touch. Even after he'd come to her house when she'd been shaken up from witnessing Mik Maudsley commit suicide, he'd been so awkward with her, giving her a pat on the shoulder and making her sweet tea, whereas anyone else on the team would probably have given her a hug. Even Malcolm, she believes, might have done so in those circumstances.

 _She_ was the one who'd kissed him on the docks, and since she's been back, _she'_ s been the one to touch him. She wracks her brain but cannot find any instance when he has taken the initiative, and yet apparently he wants to. He wants to hold her, kiss her and make love to her. She spends almost all her free time pondering his words and what they mean for her and for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry gets out of the car and walks briskly down the steps with Ruth just behind him.

“If he talks, you'll lose your job,” she says to him.

“Yes,” he replies.

“You'll lose everything,” she states looking over the river, her voice laced with disbelief at the risk he's taking.

“Possibly,” Harry replies. “He won't talk though; he's an honourable man.”

Ruth tuns to look at him and says, “You can't know that for sure, Harry.”

Harry continues to stare over the water and replies, “Sometimes you need to give a man a chance, Ruth,” then sadly he turns to look at her and continues, “to show you who he really is.”

Ruth blinks at him in surprise, knowing that he's no longer talking about Dr. Kirby. They stare into each other's eyes for a few moments before Harry turns around sadly and walks away. Ruth watches him go with regret, and she finally realises that the _only_ thing he's asking for is a chance. Then it dawns on her that she's never really given him one. She gave him a chance when she went to dinner with him five years ago, but the next day she snatched it back. And since that day, despite the deep, irrevocable love that she feels for this man, she has never given him the chance that he deserves. Because in the end, he _is_ just a man, a man she respects, admires, trusts and loves. Despite all the things that they've done and seen together, she still loves him and trusts him to make the right decision, even when that decision is impossibly hard to make.

Ruth pauses in her walk and looks around. Without realising it, she's been following Harry, but now he seems to have disappeared. She takes a few steps forward and looks up and down the pavement. When she cannot see him, she sighs heavily, walks over to the wall, and gazes across the Thames.

“Are you following me?” Harry says in a low voice just behind her right shoulder.

Startled, she spins around to face him and stutters, “Yes... I mean, no.” She sighs, and reaching up a hand to rub her forehead, she adds, “I don't know. I was thinking.”

He remains silent but steps forward to stand by her side and look out over the water, patiently waiting for her to explain. Ruth watches him for a few moments. She takes in the lines on his face, the downward tilt of the corners of his mouth, the way the hair on the back of his head curls around the collar of his shirt, the square set of his shoulders, and his gloved hands resting on the wall. He's so still, waiting, waiting patiently for her... like he's been doing for years now.

A Bible verse that she learnt as a child pops into her head. “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” (ESV) Her love has born, endured and hoped for all things, but she's never believed. _It's time_ , she tells herself, _time to believe._ She reaches out her right hand and gently covers his gloved, left one. He turns towards her, but she doesn't look at him. Instead she stares at their joined hands. He waits and is rewarded a few moments later when she slowly lifts her eyes to his. Her eyes are a deep, stormy blue, shining with unshed tears.

“Would you like to get a drink, Harry?” she asks in an unsteady voice.

He looks at her, and despite his best efforts to squash it, hope flutters in his chest. He remains silent, however, trying to interpret the meaning behind her words.

“This is me,” she continues in a whisper, “giving you a chance. Giving _us_ a chance,” she adds after a pause.

The small hope that had been born in his heart at her first words now bursts free and shows itself in the form of a small smile that plays around his lips and the joy shining in his eye as he replies, “Yes, Ruth. I think I would.”

She squeezes his hand and smiles back at him.


	3. Chapter 3

 

They make their way to a pub that Harry chooses. It's one of his favourites, old, with a pleasant atmosphere, not large enough for someone to hide in the crowd, or small enough for him to stand out. He has a list of pubs and bars that he visits where he can maintain his anonymity. He makes sure that his visits are irregular and it's been a while since he's been here.

They walk side by side in silence, each lost in their thoughts and worries about how to proceed from here. Harry's terrified that he will do or say the wrong thing and send her running for the hills again. He tries to reason with himself, remembering that it was Ruth who asked him out, that he has already told her what he would like from their relationship, and that after all this time, hopefully, she's less likely to bolt at the first sign of difficulty. Plus he's learned a lot about Ruth since their last date, and he'll make sure that he maintains their privacy at all costs. That's another reason why he chose this pub; he's only ever encountered someone who knows him here once, and that was more than three years ago. He feels slightly calmer and in control when they reach their destination.

Ruth is slightly surprised and dazed at her daring in asking Harry out on a date. Of course, she knows that she had no other option if she wants to have a relationship with him, but still she feels uncomfortable being so forward. She tries to calm herself by remembering that this is hardly the first date she's been on, and that she's very capable of dealing with this situation in a calm, mature manner. The fact that it's Harry she's with should fill her with joy, not this ridiculous anxiety and fear of doing or saying something wrong. She promises herself that, no matter what happens, she won't run. After all, she's with Harry, the man she trusts above all others.

They reach the pub and he holds the door for her. She steps through it, smiling timidly as she glances up at his face though she doesn't quite dare meet his eye. “Thanks,” she murmurs and he nods before following her into the building.

Once inside, Harry leads them to one of his favourite tables in the back room.

“This okay?” he asks and she nods before beginning to remove her coat. Harry steps behind her, and helping her take it off, he drapes it over the back of her chair before pulling it out for her. She takes the seat and murmurs her thanks again. Harry removes his jacket and gloves and sits down on her left. His seat affords him a good view of the only doorway leading into the room and also the fire exit, which is not far from them should a quick exit become necessary.

“What can I get you?” he asks quietly.

“I think I'll have a dry Martini, please,” she replies with a little half smile.

He raises his eyebrows at that and is tempted to make a James Bond joke, but he thinks better of it and instead just nods and gets up, going to the bar in the next room. Ruth takes the time he's away to look around in an attempt to settle her nerves. The pub really is lovely. The walls are covered in wood panelling and the lighting is soft, making for a quiet, private atmosphere. There are a couple of windows on the wall opposite the door, away from where she's sitting. The ceiling is low and the wood tables and upholstered stools and chairs fit perfectly with the rest of the décor. It makes Ruth smile; she loves old pubs.

Soon she senses Harry watching her and turns her head towards the door. He's standing in the doorway with their drinks and immediately moves forward towards their table. There are several other people in the room, which makes for a nice babble of conversation in the background, making it easier to have some privacy. Harry places her drink in front of her and takes his seat, gently putting his whisky down on the table.

“Thank you,” she smiles.

“My pleasure,” he replies quietly.

They're silent for a moment, both of them unsure of what to say next. Eventually Ruth murmurs, “This is a nice place. I haven't been here before.”

Harry nods and replies, “I like it. It's one of the best on my list.”

She smiles and shakes her head as she looks down at her drink, saying, “I should have known you'd have a list. How many are on it?”

“Probably about two dozen,” he answers after a moment, unsure of how to take her comment. “I daren't frequent the same place very often,” he explains.

Ruth nods and says, “This reminds me of a place in Oxford I used to like.”

“The Bear Inn?” he asks, and she nods in surprise before she remembers that he spent his student years there too. “It was my favourite pub back in the day. They had the best cheap beer and best full English breakfast,” he adds.

Ruth smiles and replies, “It was my favourite too though I was never a big fan of beer, and I don't recall ever having _breakfast_ in a pub.”

He looks at her in surprise as he realises that she's teasing him. She blushes and looks down at her drink again, making him smile at her embarrassment.

“The proprietor, Gwen, was an excellent cook though,” she continues quickly. “The food was always good.”

“Gwen,” Harry says softly as a small, fond smile appears on his lips. “I remember her. She _was_ excellent.” Ruth raises her eyebrows at his tone, and he adds hastily, “I mean, she was always generous, funny and an excellent cook. _All_ the students loved her.”

Ruth looks down to hide a smile, and suddenly remembering something, her head snaps back up and she says, “You're not _the_ Harry, are you?” Harry looks confused and Ruth elaborates with a smile, “When I was at Oxford, Gwen loved to tell stories about student escapades over the years, and her favourite one involved a student called Harry who managed to convince all the girls in the pub that day to let him kiss them so that he could win a bet.” Harry looks down at his drink uncomfortably as Ruth continues, “And apparently he was so good at it that some of them even tried to pretend that he hadn't kissed them yet, so that they could get another one.” Ruth's sure that Harry's the hero of this story because, although when he looks up his face is impassive as usual, his ears have turned pink, and she can't resist adding, “I rather got the impression that Gwen was still half in love with this Harry as she always lamented that her husband had been present at the time and she couldn't take full advantage of the situation.”

Ruth looks at him enquiringly, and though he remains silent for a few moments, eventually he clears his throat and murmurs, “I... um... was somewhat...”

“Of a lady's man?” she asks mischievously.

He realises that she's teasing him again and finds that he likes this hitherto unseen side of Ruth. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly as he replies, “I was going to say reckless, but your word fits too.”

She smiles and then suddenly her eyes widen, and looking swiftly down at her drink, she whispers, “Oh, God,” and shakes her head at herself. Every time she'd heard Gwen's story, she'd always thought that she would never have succumbed to the charms of this Harry, but would have refused to kiss him. It wasn't the kind of thing she did. Now, however, it suddenly occurs to her that she almost certainly would have fallen for him. In fact, she probably sealed her fate when she was in her twenties and declared that she would never kiss such a man as Harry, so inevitably, fifteen years later, she fell in love with him instead.

“What?” Harry asks quickly and with a little concern.

“Nothing,” she murmurs and blushes scarlet.

“There's definitely something, Ruth,” he insists quietly.

“I... um.. it's nothing really,” she replies and adds hastily, “What shall we drink to?”

He studies her for a moment and decides to let it go, so picking up his glass, he replies, “Old friends and second chances.”

“Old friends and second chances,” she repeats, and they clink their glasses together before taking a sip of their drinks.

They fall silent again, unsure of what to talk about next. Fortunately, Harry thinks to ask her about her choir, and they happily begin a discussion on singing and music that lasts for some time. By the time they've exhausted the topic, their glasses are empty.

“Another?” Harry asks nodding at her glass.

“Yes, please,” she smiles, “but I'll get them.”

“You most certainly will not,” Harry replies in the no-nonsense voice that he uses so often on the Grid as he rises from the table.

“That's a rather sexist attitude, wouldn't you say?” Ruth says in a serious tone as she frowns at him.

Harry looks at her in surprise, but it only takes him a moment to figure out that she's teasing him again. “Quite possibly,” he replies with a small smile, “but after all, I _am_ a knight of the realm, Ruth, and it is my duty to act in an appropriately manly fashion.”

Ruth laughs at his retort, and his smile broadens. It's been so long since he's heard her laugh, and it warms his heart to hear it. Ruth's laughter subsides slowly to be replaced by a warm smile as she looks into his twinkling eyes. He looks almost boyish when he smiles like that, she thinks and her stomach does a little flip. Half of her wishes that he would reach down and kiss her, while the other half is scared that he might actually do it. His gaze flicks to her lips briefly before he brings it back up to her eyes, and her pulse quickens. He can see the fear in her eyes and also something else, which he thinks might be desire but he can't be sure, so he turns away to get their drinks.

Ruth feels the disappointment wash over her, and she chastises herself for her stupidity. Why is it that physical contact with Harry scares her so much? So what if she feels a hundred times more for him then she's ever felt for any other man she's dated? Surely, that's a good thing. She can't keep doing this to herself and to him. No wonder he finds it so difficult to make the first move. She must be driving him crazy with all the mixed signals she keeps giving him. She'll try her hardest to stop doing that, she decides, and if Harry doesn't kiss her tonight, then she'll have to do it. All she has to do is imagine that this is the last night they will ever spend together and that tomorrow she'll have to leave him forever; it worked last time.

“Here you are,” Harry says, braking into her thoughts.

“Thanks,” she replies and takes a sip of her drink.

“I ordered us some sandwiches,” he adds as he sits down. “A BLT and a Tuna-Mayo. Is that okay? I thought you might be hungry.”

“Yes,” she smiles. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.”

He nods and brings his drink to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid. He's removed his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, and he looks so very sexy that it takes her a little while to recover from the sight. She watches the muscles of his forearm move as he lowers the glass back to the table, her mind conjuring up images of his hands running sensually across her skin, and when he brings his drink up to his lips again and her eyes follow the motion of his arm, she suddenly realises that she's been staring at his bare skin for quite some time. She blushes and quickly lifts her eyes to his to see if he's noticed.

He's noticed. In fact, he's watching her intently, his warm, hazel eyes twinkling at her with pleasure, hope and just a little bit of mischief, and it makes her blush deepen. She drops her eyes back down to her drink for a moment, and then taking a deep breath, she looks back up and begins a discussion on books, keen to distract herself from his state of undress, which is playing havoc with her senses. It's quite a heated discussion, and they both enjoy the clashing of intellects and good-natured argument that it provokes.

Their food arrives, and after Ruth chooses the Tuna sandwich, they both tuck in hungrily as they suddenly realise that they haven't had anything to eat in a while. They finish their drinks and have another, turning the conversation to places they've visited in Britain. Harry's travel has been much more extensive that Ruth's, but his has been more a result of business trips rather than an exploration of the history and character of the places. Ruth's many questions on the places Harry's visited are frequently met with shrugs from him, and noting her frustration at his lack of information to offer, he eventually suggests with a mischievous smile that she consult a book or a website. She glares at him in response and he chuckles.

Ruth is feeling slightly drunk by now, but Harry's used to this quantity of alcohol and is merely feeling relaxed. A group of rowdy students enter the room and draw their attention for a moment. Ruth studies them quietly as they make their way to the table in the corner, talking and laughing loudly. Harry shakes his head at them and turns back to Ruth, ready to make a comment about their behaviour, but when he sees her face, he decides against it. There is a small, almost wistful, smile on her lips, and he wonders what she's thinking. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat of the room and the alcohol, and her blue eyes sparkle in the half light. She is truly beautiful and Harry's breath catches in his throat as he watches her. He wants to reach over and touch her, but he holds back, wondering if he will ever feel free to do so.

Years ago, when they'd been on that one date, he'd dared to take her hand in his when he was helping her out of the car. He still remembers it vividly; their touch had been electric. She had released his hand quickly at the time, and he hadn't attempted to take it again that night as he could tell that she was too nervous. He'd realised then that, with Ruth, he'd have to go slowly and he'd been prepared to be patient and give her space, but then she'd called the whole thing off, and he'd had to step even further away from her. When the whole Cotterdam fiasco had happened, they'd began to draw closer again, and he's sure that, if it hadn't ended so badly, they would have found their way to each other in time. But now, after so much time, he's still no closer to her, and if she hadn't been the one to ask him here today, he still wouldn't know where he stands with her. As it is, he's sure that at least some part of her wants him. But how fast can he move without risking her running from him again?

Ruth watches the group of students and smiles. She used to be like that, she thinks. She used to joke and enjoy being with friends and lovers. Could one go back to feeling that way? She hasn't had a real friend or a lover since George died. It's such a long time to be alone and lonely. Her gaze shifts back to Harry, and she catches him watching her. For a split second, she sees love and desire radiating from his eyes before he slams down the shutters and regains control, and she feels her own passion rise in response, making her heart beat faster, and she involuntarily clenches her pelvic floor muscles. She desperately wants and needs this relationship, she realises. It all seems so much easier now that she's jumped in with both feet and has stopped sitting on the fence. She wants and needs Harry.

“Let's play a game,” she says suddenly.

Harry smiles in amusement and asks, “What kind of game?”

“Truth or Dare,” she replies, her confidence boosted by the alcohol in her system.

Harry chuckles and murmurs, “If we're choosing party games, I think I'd prefer Spin the Bottle to be honest.”

“That would be a little pointless with only two players,” she replies quickly without thinking.

“I wouldn't call it _pointless_ , Ruth,” he smirks, “I'm sure I'll get _plenty_ of enjoyment out of it.”

She laughs, and leaning towards him, whispers quickly before she can lose her nerve, “If I let you kiss me, Harry, will you play Truth or Dare with me?”

Harry stares at her for a moment, then he swallows, and pretending to consider her proposal for a little while, he replies with a thoughtful expression, “How many times?”

“Let's start with five turns and we'll see,” she answers, deliberately misunderstanding his question.

“I meant, how many times may I kiss you?” he clarifies as the corners of his lips tilt up mischievously and he raises his eyebrows at her.

“So did I,” she says with a cheeky smile and promptly blushes scarlet.

His breathing quickens in anticipation as her words register in his brain, and he turns his body towards her, his right hand griping the back of his chair and his left the edge of the table. He studies her intently, and she holds his gaze, convincing him that she really wants this. “Ruth,” he murmurs as he leans forward.

“Harry,” she whispers reassuringly and mimics his motions.

Their lips meet briefly before he pulls back to look at her again. He has to check that this is really okay with her before he moves further along this path because he knows from experience how difficult it is to stop once he's relinquished some of his self-control. He suspects that with Ruth it will be infinitely harder than anything he's ever experienced before. That's why he hadn't allowed himself to kiss her, _really_ kiss her, on the docks all those years ago because he knew that she was leaving him for good, and if he'd let go even for just one second, he didn't trust himself not to do something stupid and selfish that would put her in danger.

Her eyes are luminous and beautiful, and in them, he finds the permission he seeks to continue. His hands reach up and cup her face, stoking her cheeks gently, before pulling her forward for a second, deeper kiss. She responds by shuffling closer to him, resting her hands on his forearms, running her fingers across his exposed, warm skin, and feeling his strong muscles move below it. His lips are soft and perfect as they massage hers gently, expertly. He tastes of whisky and smells oddly of cinnamon rolls. He pulls back and kisses her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, her chin and her lips once more. Her eyes are closed, he notes as he presses his lips against hers again. She smells of honeysuckle and mint and feels exquisite. He almost loses himself in their kiss, and he doesn't want to stop. He never wants any of this to stop. He has to fight hard for self-control before he manages to pull back, and when they part, they're both slightly breathless. Her eyelids open slowly to reveal her sparkling, blue eyes that are darker than he's ever seen them.

He swallows audibly and clears his throat before saying in a slightly husky voice, “I think I got a little carried away. That was definitely more than five. Sorry.”

“Are you?” she asks quietly, tilting her head to the side slightly.

“No,” he admits with a small smile, “not really. Are you?”

“A little,” she replies and watches as concern clouds his eyes and he frowns. “That is, I'm sorry that you had to stop,” she adds hastily.

“Yes, well,” he grins in relief, “I did promise to play a game with you.”

“You ask first then,” she nods, and picking up her glass, she takes a sip. _Dear God, but he knows how to kiss!_ Even though she's often relived in her imagination those two, wonderful, brief, chaste kisses they'd shared on the docks all those years ago, she'd quite forgotten how electric, how incredible his lips had felt against hers. It's as if, with just one touch of his lips on hers, he's flipped a switch somewhere inside her and has reawakened her sexual desire from a deep state of hibernation. Her heart's pounding in her chest, and her whole body's humming with excitement. In fact, she's surprised that her voice and hands are so steady, because inside she's quivering in anticipation. Would tonight be too soon, she wonders.

“Okay,” he replies, breaking into her thoughts. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she says, shaking her head slightly to clear it.

“I bet you always say truth,” he smiles.

“And I bet you always say dare,” she counters.

“I think you might be right,” he replies, and then rubbing his hands together in glee, he adds, “Okay. What did you think of earlier today, when we were discussing Gwen's stories, that made you blush?”

“Trust you to pick that one,” she murmurs in annoyance, and seeing him smile at her comment, she shakes her head at him and replies, “If you _must_ know, every time I heard that story, I was sure that I would have been able to resist you, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was wrong.”

“You can't resist me?” he asks in a silky voice as he places his left forearm on the table and leans slightly towards her.

Good heavens! Harry Pearce is being _playful_ , she thinks, and rolling her eyes in irritation at his sudden overconfidence, she replies in an exasperated voice, “Heaven knows I've tried, but look where it's got me! Dead, resurrected, hurt, alone and lonely. Frankly, it's not worth it, and I give up.” Her eyes widen in surprise at her admission, and she silently berates herself for having so much to drink. With that thought, she picks up her glass and downs the remainder of her Martini.

Harry watches her, surprised at her sudden frankness and more than a little hopeful that perhaps this time things will turn out differently for them.

She turns to him and says, “Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he replies.

“I thought you always said dare,” she frowns.

“The spook inside me won't allow me to be predictable,” he shrugs as his eyes twinkle at her in amusement.

“Okay,” she replies with an impish half-smile. She thinks, and after a moment, she asks with a frown, “If you want me as much as you claimed the other day on the roof, why don't you touch me?”

“I...” he stalls, thinking hard. “You think I don't want you?” he murmurs in surprise almost as if he's thinking out loud. It never occurred to him before to think about what it might look like from her perspective.

Ruth looks down at her drink as she replies quietly, “What else am I supposed to think?”

The moment the words are out of her mouth, she knows that she doesn't mean them. Just minutes ago when they'd kissed, she'd felt how much Harry loves her and wants her. Then to her horror, she feels tears threaten to spill from her eyes. She tries to blink them away but it's no use; the alcohol she's consumed in combination with the tension and doubts that have been with her for years make it impossible to stem the flow.

Harry's horrified by her response. She can't think that, not after the kisses they've just shared. “Look at me,” he demands.

She doesn't.

He lowers his voice and repeats gently, “Please, look at me, Ruth.”

Slowly she lifts her eye to his, and he notices that her cheeks are damp with tears. His heart constricts, and he reaches out his hands and takes hers in them.

“Ruth, you are the most intelligent, most enchanting, most beautiful woman I know,” he says seriously. “I would have to be either mad, or dead to not want you. There is nothing I want more.” He pauses, letting his words sink in before he adds, “I _want_ to touch you; you know I do.”

She does know all this of course, but it's still good to hear it from his lips. She pulls her right hand out of his grasp and wipes away her tears, chastising herself for succumbing to her insecurities. Then she reaches her hand across the table again, and he takes it in his once more. “So what's stopping you?” she asks quietly, wanting him to confirm her suspicions.

Harry shrugs, “Habit... fear.”

“Self-control, self-denial,” she says, remembering his words from ages ago, and he nods. Then she asks softly, “What are you afraid of, Harry?”

He looks into her eyes, swallows and replies in a whisper, “I'm terrified that you'll leave again, or that you'll be disappointed.” He pauses and then adds, “And if you do, Ruth, I'll never be able to go back to seeing you every day and not being allowed to touch you. It would kill me. Once I let go of my self-control where you are concerned, there will be no turning back for me.”

She nods, and after a pause during which they both stare at their joined hands, she says, “I'm done running away, Harry... and you could never disappoint me in that way.” She looks at him and smiles as she adds, “I love you.”

He looks up at her then, and his eyes shine with a mixture of surprise, hope and love. He nods and squeezes her hands tightly before he lowers his gaze as the emotions threaten to overwhelm him, pressing his chin to his chest and taking deep unsteady breaths.

She can see that he's close to tears, so extracting her left hand from his, she lays it on his shoulder and rubs soothing circles on it. Then she leans forward, and pressing a kiss to his cheek, she whispers, “Let's get out of here, Harry.”

He nods, and they get up and slip on their coats. The activity provides a distraction, and as they leave the pub, Harry's back in control of his emotions. They walk a little way side by side, retracing their steps from earlier. So much has happened in the last few hours. It never occurred to either of them this morning when they got up that this day could end on such a high note. Harry glances down at Ruth, and mindful of their recent conversation, he takes her hand in his, linking their fingers together. He catches a glimpse of a smile on her lips before she turns her head away, and he smiles in contentment.

They turn into St. James's Park and find a bench by the lake to sit. Despite the fact that it's late already, the night's quite warm by London standards, and the bench is dry as they've had a week without rain. Harry puts his arm along the back of the bench behind Ruth, and she moves closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He lets his arm slide down across her shoulders and pulls her close, turning his head towards her and pressing a soft kiss against her hair as they sit in companionable silence for a little while, enjoying their new found proximity. In fact, Ruth is so comfortable that she almost falls asleep. Harry notices her breathing deepen and even out as her head becomes heavier, so he whispers, “Ruth?”

“Mmmm?” she replies sleepily and shuffles closer to him.

He smiles fondly at her and says, “Let me take you home.”

“Mmmm,” she murmurs but doesn't move, so he begins to get up, forcing her to raise her head from his shoulder.

She blinks at him as he stands and turns towards her, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet, saying, “Come on. Let's find a cab.”

“No driver today?” she asks as they walk towards the park exit hand in hand again.

“I sent him home,” he replies. “I'll make sure this time that no one knows until you're ready.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs and squeezes his hand.

He nods and turns towards her, but at that moment he spots a taxi out of the corner of his eye, and turning back towards the road, he hails it. He helps Ruth in, and getting in himself, he gives the driver her address. Ruth isn't surprised that he knows it, after all, she's memorised his. She surreptitiously checks the cab number to make sure that it's not a spook taxi, and after confirming it's not, she shuffles closer to Harry and places her hand on his thigh close to his knee. He's momentarily surprised by the contact, but the feeling is quickly replaced by delight. Carefully, he covers her hand with his own and sees her smile.

The effect of the alcohol on her system is already wearing off, so she can't attribute her boldness to being drunk any more. She's just finally realised what she's been missing out on all these years and is not prepared to do so any longer. In her work, she can be very determined, confident, and single minded when she needs to be, but this is the first time she's attempted to use these qualities in getting what she wants in her personal life, and it's about time she tried, she reasons. When she lived with George, she felt much more free to express herself, and she was much more self-assured and firm, especially when it came to mothering Nico. The trauma of what happened when she came back to Britain, coupled with her return to a job that requires constant vigilance and secrecy, seem to have robbed her of her self-confidence, and she feels that it's time to reclaim it.

She looks out the window and notices that they're approaching her house. They'll probably be there in less than five minutes. Beth will be home, she thinks, and suddenly, she doesn't want this evening to end. She looks over at Harry and again she wonders if tonight would be too soon. She wonders what he'd say if she asked him. She smiles as she pictures him answering in a gruff tone, “Not soon enough, Ruth, not nearly soon enough.”

“Harry?” she murmurs before she can second guess herself, and all the while reminding herself to pretend that it's the last time she's ever going to see him so that she can find the courage to go through with it.

“Yes?” he replies as he turns to face her.

After all, she reasons quickly as she works up her courage, in their line of work, it might well be the last time. Dear God, she hopes not. They deserve more than one night together. However, even if it _is_ only one night, she won't make the same mistake again. Because all those years when she was away, her biggest regret had been not knowing what it was like to be loved in every way by the man she was totally, completely, and irrevocably in love with.

“Would you like to come in?” she says quietly, and she's surprised that her voice is steady and determined, because inside she's quivering with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Harry stares at her for a moment in astonishment, and it takes him a second to recover. “Yes, I would, Ruth,” he replies in a low rumble. “I would like that very much.”

“Good,” she smiles in relief. “The thing is, Harry... Beth will be home.”

He ponders this for a moment, trying to work out what Ruth is thinking, and eventually he asks, “Would you like to come to my place instead?” His heart is hammering loudly in his chest, fearing that he's misinterpreted the meaning behind her words and that he's pushed her too far. After all, inviting him to her house doesn't necessarily imply that there will be sex, but accepting an invitation to his house is an entirely different matter.

He's about to add something to the effect that he doesn't mean to pressure her, and if it's just a coffee she wants, that's all she'll get, when she replies in a smooth, silky voice, “I'd love to, Harry.”

Her swift reply leaves him in no doubt that she's more than willing to share his bed tonight, and it makes him feel a little breathless. Briefly he wonders if it's Christmas as he fights to control his breathing which has become noticeably heavier. He clears his throat and swallows hard. “Right then,” he murmurs after a moment and gives the cab driver their new destination.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry opens the door to his house, and they're greeted by a very excited Scarlet. She barks and rushes up to Harry who gives her a quick pat on the head, saying, “Hello, Scarlet,” before turning his attention to the alarm. The little dog then turns to Ruth, wagging her tail enthusiastically as she sniffs her legs. Ruth smiles, and crouching down, makes a fuss of her while Harry resets the alarm.

Harry takes off his jacket and hangs it up before turning to look at the two of them. He can immediately tell that they like each other very much, and he's relieved. He didn't realise how worried he was about it until just now. He had no idea if Ruth likes animals other than cats, and it saddens him that this is the first time they've created the opportunity for Ruth to meet his faithful companion. His momentary gloom passes swiftly, however, as he watches Ruth trying to deflect Scarlet's enthusiastic attempts to lick her face.

“No, Scarlet,” Ruth repeats, but to no avail. The little dog is as determined as her owner and will not pass up the challenge. Harry never objects to her kisses, so why is this new, lovely, friendly person not happy to get one? Ruth attempts to stand up and move out of Scarlet's reach, but she loses her balance momentarily and falls backwards. She throws her hands back to catch herself, and the little dog sees her change. She jumps forward, avoiding Harry's arms which swoop down from above to catch her, and landing on Ruth's lap, she proceeds to lick her face enthusiastically.

Harry swiftly reaches down for his dog saying, “Come here, you naughty rascal. Leave Ruth alone.”

However much to his surprise, Ruth begins to laugh and shakes her head at him. She gives up the struggle to stay on her feet, and sitting down, she wraps her arms around the dog and chuckles, “It's okay, Harry.” Then she adds to the dog, “You just wanted to give me a kiss, didn't you, Scarlet? I'm sorry I didn't let you.”

Then to the amazement of both, Scarlet lets out a small bark as if to say, “That's okay,” gives Ruth one more lick, jumps off her lap, and runs into the kitchen.

He turns to Ruth who's still chuckling and offers her his hand, saying, “Better get up before she comes back.”

Ruth smiles up at him, and taking his hand, lets him haul her to her feet. She takes the handkerchief he offers her and wipes her face. “Thank you,” she smiles and hands it back to him.

“I'm sorry about her behaviour,” he replies with a frown. “She's never done that before.”

“You mean attack someone just to lick them?” Ruth asks in an amused tone.

“Yes,” he smiles.

“Well,” she says, “I'm flattered.”

Scarlet runs back to them and gives a small bark as if asking what they're waiting for.

“Quiet, Scarlet,” Harry commands, and the little dog looks at him intently as its tail slows down. “Sit,” he says, and Scarlet obeys quickly. “Now, wait,” he instructs, and turning to Ruth, he helps her out of her coat and hangs it up on a hook by the door.

“I'm impressed,” Ruth smiles at the dog, causing her to wag her tail happily, but she doesn't dare get up. Then she adds, “How old is she? She's so full of energy.”

“She's eight,” Harry replies. “She does have a lot of energy for her age. I think she just saves it up all day for when I get home.” Then turning to his dog, he adds quietly, “Come,” and Scarlet gets up and runs to him, jumping up at his leg.

Harry crouches down and stokes her lovingly, scratching her ears and cooing to her softly. Ruth watches in wonder; she's never seen Harry openly display affection like this before. The little dog delights in the attention and jumps up to lick his face.

“Yes, I know,” he coos. “I love you too, old girl.”

Ruth smiles and can't resist teasing, “So that's what a girl has to do to get you to admit your feelings, is it?”

Harry glances up at her and straightens himself up, blushing slightly. “Drink?” he offers, choosing to just ignore her teasing remark as he can't think of anything clever to say in response.

“Tea, please,” Ruth replies with a smile and follows him into the kitchen.

It is a spacious room with a lot of counter space and a small table for two overlooking the patio. She's surprised to see that everything is clean and neat, but then she remembers that Harry was in the army. There are very few ornaments about, unlike her own kitchen which is full of them. She watches Harry fill Scarlet's water and food bowls and place them on the floor for her. She gives a grateful little bark, and rushing over to her food, she begins to eat. Harry watches her affectionately for a moment before he washes his hands, and filling up the kettle, he turns it on to boil. Then he reaches into one of the cupboards for two mugs and places a tea bag in each of them.

Ruth moves forward and walks up to the sink next to Harry where she washes her hands, and as he waits for the kettle to boil, he turns towards her and watches her quietly. Her face is in profile, and he can't help but notice how beautiful she looks. A smile appears on her lips, probably a result of something she's recalled, causing a dimple to form in her cheek, and a sudden desire to press his lips to it overwhelms him. Next thing he knows, he feels himself move slowly closer as if pulled by a strong magnetic force.

She turns to her right to get the towel she saw there a moment ago, but she finds herself confronted with Harry's chest instead. Briefly, she wonders how he managed to get so close without her becoming aware of it, however, soon all thoughts dissolve, and her heart rate shoots up when she sees his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. Slowly she lifts her eyes up towards his face, letting them linger on his full lips before moving up to meet his gaze. Her breathing quickens when she sees the desire clearly displayed in his expressive eyes, and she's transported back in time to a hotel corridor where a similar expression in his gaze had caused her to flee. This time, however, there's no sadness in his eyes, just hope, and she knows that, this time, she won't run.

“Yes, Harry,” she murmurs in invitation.

Her words act like a catalyst, causing the remaining thin threads of his self-control to snap, and his arms to swiftly wrap around her body and draw her close against his chest as his mouth comes down on hers. He steps sideways, pushing her up against the sink as he moves one of his hands behind her head, sliding his fingers through her silky, chestnut hair. His lips are hot and demanding as he kisses her ardently, and his kiss is like nothing she's felt before, an incredible mixture of enduring love, unyielding devotion, intense longing, and acute need. She feels her passion rise as they stand wrapped in each other's arms, their tongues swirling around each other, their touch electric.

Hot desire like she's not felt in years pools in her abdomen. Her hands pull his shirt out of his trousers, and she slides them below it along the taught muscles of his back, revelling in the feel of his flushed skin. He feels so good; he's warm and sort, but there is firmness underneath, denoting strong muscles lying hidden beneath the surface. His mouth, oh God, his mouth is so amazingly talented, and every time she thinks this kiss cannot possibly get any better, he does something new with his lips and tongue that makes her reach new heights of pleasure.

This is a kiss to end all kisses, he thinks dimly. Dear God, but she's a quick learner. Every new move he makes she repeats, making him lose a little more of his control over himself and the situation. If she asked him to stop right now, he's not sure that he'd be able to any more. Her hair feels so soft, like silk, and he can't keep his hands out of it. He wants to feel more of her, all of her. He can hear nothing but the blood pounding in his ears, her smell is everywhere, and his skin tingles wherever she touches him. He can think of nothing but Ruth.

She feels his hardened length pressing against her abdomen, and the strength of the answering pull inside her alarms her. She's never wanted someone this much before. However, Harry chooses that moment to release her lips and begin to kiss her jaw, following it round to her ear, and it distracts her from her momentary fear. She feels his hot breath on the side of her face as he hovers near her ear and whispers, “I love you, Ruth.”

He doesn't give her time to respond before his lips press against her, and his tongue darts into her ear canal. All thought leaves her head at the new, exquisite sensations that his tongue is creating, and she whimpers with pleasure, her legs almost giving out from under her. One of his hands finds the opportunity to leave her hair and make it's way down the other side of her face, tracing delicate patterns with the tips of his fingers all the way down her cheek and neck. When he reaches the fabric of her top, he dips his fingers below it before coming back up and moving to her shoulder, only to return to her neckline and repeat his motions.

“Harry,” she whispers when she regains the power of speech as his lips move down her neck.

Something in the background is distracting her, trying to claim her attention, but she has no chance to find out what it is as he makes the journey back up her neck and approaches her ear once more.

“I want you more than my next breath, Ruth,” he murmurs before removing her power of speech again by dipping his tongue into her ear once more. She moans and presses herself against him, sliding her hands down to grab his bum, trying to bring him closer. He can't get any closer in their current position, but her brain's capacity for logical analysis seems to have disappeared completely. He groans loudly and moves his mouth back down her neck towards her chest.

She can breathe again now. She had no idea her ears were so sensitive as none of her previous lovers had ever paid them any attention. Lovers. She smiles as she realises that Harry's finally going to be her lover. _Harry!_

The noise in the background tries to claim her attention again, and this time she focuses her mind on it despite the distraction provided by Harry's hands and mouth. Scratching and a low whine. She turns her head towards the back door and spots the source. “Harry,” she says in a breathless, husky voice, but gets no response. “Harry,” she repeats. Then she momentarily loses her train of thought as his hand pushes aside her cardigan and cups her breast through the material of her tight fitting top. She gasps and almost loses herself in the sensations again. “Stop,” she whispers and feels him freeze.

No, no, no, no, _no!_ His mind howls. This can't be happening. His lips are pressed against her neck, and he can feel her pulse thundering below them. His arms involuntarily hold her tighter against him as his body screams at him to continue, but his mind knows full well that he cannot. He holds her close as the seconds tick by, unwilling to release her in case he never gets to do so again. He must have misheard her, he thinks. She can't mean that. Not now. Not after everything. And yet he's terrified of looking into her eyes and seeing a confirmation of her words.

“Harry?” she whispers.

The sound of her voice makes him realise how futile his attempts are to hold on, and he slowly lifts his head and looks into her eyes. Her gaze is warm and loving, but it immediately switches to a look of concern when she sees his face. For once it's completely naked, entirely transparent, and she can see all that he's feeling written on it as clear as day.

“Oh, no,” she murmurs. “I didn't mean it like that. I don't want you to stop. It's just that your other lady needs your attention right now.”

His face takes on a completely baffled look, and he says, “Excuse me?”

“Scarlet,” Ruth explains with a smile.

It is then that he becomes aware of the scratching and low whine coming from the back door. Scarlet. He'd forgotten about her. It's not surprising really; he'd forgotten about everything. Some spook you are, Harry Pearce, he thinks, disgusted with his sudden inability to multi-task and keep an eye on his surroundings. It's been decades since he's been so caught up in a woman that he can't pay attention to anything else.

“Would you like me to let her out?” Ruth asks quietly.

“What?” he replies, and then making an effort to engage his brain, he adds after a moment, “No. If we let her out, she'll escape. There's a hole in the hedge that she likes to disappear through. I'll have to take her for a walk.” He sighs and adds quietly, “I'm sorry, Ruth.”

“It's fine, Harry,” she murmurs and kisses his cheek softly. “Just don't be too long,” she whispers near his ear.

“Oh, Ruth,” he moans and pulls her tightly against him, pressing his face into her neck.

She wraps her arms around him and they hold each other close for a few moments before she pushes him away gently, saying, “Go now. She's probably been waiting a while.”

Nodding, he steps back and shakes his head to clear it. His body's still highly aroused, but his brain is finally capable of performing some basic functions. “Would you like to come with us?” he asks.

Ruth shakes her head and answers, “No, thank you. It's cold out. I'll wait here.”

He looks at intently for a moment and murmurs, “You'd better still be here when I get back, Ruth, or else I'll have to come after you, and I don't care how many MI-5 resources I have to misappropriate to find you.”

She laughs and replies, “Don't worry, Harry. I'll be waiting for you.”

He smiles, and turning on his heel, he walks briskly towards the front door, calling to Scarlet as he goes. The little dog scampers after him, and after taking a moment to breath deeply and calm herself, Ruth follows the pair to the door where Harry's attaching Scarlet's lead.

He straightens up and gives Ruth a hot, lingering look before saying, “Make yourself at home. I've lots of books in the study, or help yourself to anything else you need. I won't be long.”

She thanks him, and he leaves, closing and locking the door behind him. Ruth sighs heavily and wonders back into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She puts the kettle on again, but as she waits for it to boil, she changes her mind and decides that a glass of water will do just as well. She picks up a mug from the counter, and removing the tea bag, she fills it with water at the sink. She gulps it down thirstily and then wonders over to the window. The street is dark and very quiet, and she wonders what time it is. The kitchen clock tells her that it's almost midnight.


	5. Chapter 5

Her phone beeps, and she moves over to her handbag to find it. She fishes it out and glances at the screen before opening the text message she's just received. It's from Beth asking if she's okay. Ruth smiles and answers that she won't be home tonight and would she please feed her cat. Barely half a minute later she gets a reply, “Fidget fed. Good 4 U. Is he anyone I know?” Ruth smiles and debates whether to confirm that she's with a man or not. There's no way she's telling her it's Harry. In the end, she decides that, no matter what she replies, Beth will come to the same conclusion anyway. So she just types her thanks and a goodnight, and sends the message before turning the phone off and putting it away. She doesn't want to be disturbed tonight, and if there's a Red Flash, Harry will hear about it first anyway.

She gazes back out of the window, and her mind drifts into a day dream, replaying the scenes from earlier today and tonight, and suddenly, she's feeling all hot and bothered again and more than a little worried about being intimate with Harry. It isn't that she doesn't trust him or want him; it's more to do with her insecurities about her figure and especially her skill as a lover. However, there's no way she's letting herself back out of this now, but if she stands around doing nothing but think, by the time Harry gets back, she'll be a nervous wreck. She needs to keep her mind busy. A book would be good. It's a shame she left hers at home today.

She walks out of the kitchen and wonders down the hall, opening the first door she comes to. As luck would have it, it's the room she's looking for. She flicks on the light and looks around. There's a desk in the corner with a computer monitor on it, and one side of the room is lined with bookshelves. From the shape of the room with the wall of windows overlooking the garden and the two doorways leading out of it, Ruth concludes that this was originally intended as a dinning room, but it seems that Harry's using it as his office, presumably, because he has no need for a dinning room. Ruth turns to the bookshelves and runs her eyes over the titles there. It's an extensive collection, and it surprises her that Harry has so many books. He obviously reads a lot and on a variety of subjects. She settles on a volume of poetry, and pulling it out, she looks around for a place to sit. She spots an armchair in the corner, and walking over to it, she takes a seat and opens the book. She leafs through it, reading a poem here and there, but her mind won't settle, and her thoughts drift back to Harry and what it felt like to kiss him.

After all this time of waiting and fighting the attraction between them, she's relieved that kissing Harry's so wonderful. They seem to fit together perfectly, and she fervently hopes that the sex will be just as good as the snogging. The thought of what is to come tonight makes her nervous again, and she finds she can't sit still any longer. Snapping the book shut, she gets up and returns it to its place. She can feel the muscles in her body tense up in anticipation and apprehension. Desperately she tries to think of something to relieve the anxiety that's building inside her. Perhaps a shower would be a good idea. She would definitely like to be clean and smelling fresh when Harry returns. She wonders if it would be too forward of her to have a shower. Then she tells herself not to be ridiculous. She and Harry are both adults, and they both clearly want each other, so when he gets back, it's reasonable to assume that he'll want to take up where they left off. If half a decade of separation has not changed his mind, a fifteen minute walk is highly unlikely to do so, and after all, Harry did tell her to make herself at home. So, switching off the light and leaving the room, she makes her way back to the kitchen where she grabs her handbag and goes upstairs.

All four doors on the landing are closed, so she opens them one by one to find the bathroom. The first is the guest room. The second is a bathroom, but on closer inspection, she notices that it doesn't look like it's used very frequently so she moves on to the next door. The third room has some weights and exercise equipment, and the last is obviously Harry's bedroom. She opens the door wider and steps in, switching on the light as she enters. The room is neat and orderly with simple, old furniture that looks like it's made of real wood, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, two bedside tables and a queen size bed. On one wall she notices a door, so she walks up to it and finds the en suite she knew must be here. She goes to the bath tub, and briefly contemplates having a bath instead, but she dismisses the idea almost immediately as a bath would take too long. So drawing the shower curtain across, she turns on the shower to warm up the water. Then she returns to Harry's room and draws the curtains before removing her boots. After a moment's hesitation during which she talks herself into being bold, she gets undressed, ties her hair up to keep it dry, and places her clothes and bag in a neat pile on a chair she spies by the wardrobe.

As she makes her way back to the bathroom, a statue on top of the chest of draws catches her eye. She walks up to it, and on closer inspection, finds it to be a replica of “The kiss”, by Auguste Rodin. She smiles, pleased that their tastes are alike; it's always been one of her favourites. She shivers slightly, feeling a little cold without any clothes on, and makes her way briskly to the bathroom. She opens the door and steps into the warm, steamy room, the change in temperature causing her skin to rise up in goose bumps. Then she gets under the warm water and sighs happily as it massages and soothes her tense muscles.

Meanwhile, Harry walks back towards his house, whistling softly to himself. As he turns the corner into his street, his eyes are drawn to his home as always, only this time there is a sense of great excitement running through him. The kitchen light is on, but there is also a light on upstairs. His bedroom light, he realises with a jolt, and he almost stops dead in his tracks. His heart is beating so fast now that, briefly, he wonders if it's healthy. He doubles his speed and makes his way home quickly, and yet cautiously, forcing himself to pay careful attention to his surroundings for anything out of place. After opening the door and walking into the house with Scarlet, he closes it, locks it and slides home the bolts, before he resets the alarm, and hangs up his coat. Then he makes his way into the kitchen, cautiously as always, watching Scarlet for any signs that she's picked up anything unusual.

There is no sign of Ruth there, nor in any of the other rooms on the ground floor. So after making sure Scarlet has enough water, he whispers good night to her, checks all the doors and windows, and makes his way upstairs two steps at a time. He doesn't even bother to check the other rooms, but goes straight to his bedroom. The door is ajar, and he knocks lightly on it before pushing it back gently and peering in. It's empty, and a momentary panic seizes him before he spots the neat pile of clothes on the chair and hears the shower in the bathroom. The thought of Ruth naked in his shower causes his breathing to become shallow and his heart to beat even faster.

A shower is probably a good idea, he thinks. He takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it off before putting it on the bedside table and unplugging the phone from its socket. No one is going to disturb him tonight. If there's a crisis, Lucas can deal with it for a couple of hours. Then grabbing some clean clothes and an extra towel, he goes to the guest bathroom. He manages to locate soap and even a razor he can use to shave, and a few minutes later he comes out and makes his way back to his bedroom. He knocks gently on the door, but gets no response, so he pushes it open slowly and steps into the room. It's still empty, but he can no longer hear the shower running in the bathroom. He makes his way towards the bathroom door, dropping his dirty clothes in the basket by the wardrobe, however, before he can get there, the door opens and Ruth comes out with a towel wrapped around her.

They both freeze as their gazes meet across the small distance that separates them. Warm mist envelops her from the bathroom as she stands near the door, and her heart beats faster. His gaze travels down her body, making its way slowly all the way down to her bare toes, before it reverses direction and moves back up her, and she feels the heat rise to her cheeks and her throat tighten as his gaze sears her skin. She has to work hard to control her impulse to fidget. Instead she holds on tightly to the top of the towel and lets her own eyes roam over him. He's shaved, she realises, and he's changed his clothes, which probably means that he's had a shower. Her mind fills with images of Harry in the shower, and she suddenly feels a great desire to find out what he really looks like underneath his clothes. Her eyes linger on the small triangle of skin that's visible at the top of his shirt where he's left the top two buttons undone. She desperately wishes that she was bold enough to walk up to him, rip his shirt open and yank it off his body, but she cannot even pick up the courage to approach him.

He's unable to control his eyes as they sweep over her and linger on her exposed skin, causing the blood to rush to his groin. He's never seen her display so much of her legs before. They're so beautiful, shapely, and creamy that he's desperate to run his hands over them. He clenches them into fists and forces himself to look up at Ruth's eyes, however, she's not looking at his face. Instead her gaze is riveted to his chest. He smiles softly and murmurs, “Ruth?”

“Yes?” she whispers in reply as her eyes move up to meet his.

Her gaze is hot with desire, and it leaves him breathless, making him momentarily clench his jaw and fists tighter. Then he takes a step forward, closing the gap between them slightly as he replies in a husky voice, “You're incredibly beautiful.”

She smiles timidly and steps towards him, and his hands move up and come to rest on her upper arms as he stares into her dark, sparkling, stormy blue eyes. He suddenly seems very tall, and she has to tilt her head up more than usual as she stands before him in her bare feet. A shiver of anticipation runs through her, and she feels hot desire pool deep inside her as she stares into his dark, hazel eyes.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” he murmurs as he leans forward and presses his lips against hers, sending a jolt through both of them at the contact.

Her hands let go of the towel, and she slides them over his chest, running them slowly across the fabric of his shirt. He trails his fingertips up her arms and across her bare shoulders, revelling in the feel of her smooth, ivory skin and making her shiver at the pleasure of it. He desperately wants to pull the towel away from her so he can feast on her body, but he holds himself back, worried that he will scare her if he moves too fast. Instead he concentrates on kissing her with all his skill and enjoying every moment of it.

Her fingers find their way to his shirt buttons, and she begins to release them, working her way down until the last one springs free. He moans slightly into her mouth and deepens their kiss as her hands push aside the material, and they glide over his bare chest. He's warm, soft and just perfect, she thinks, and pushes his shirt off his shoulders. He releases her momentarily to pull it off, but he struggles a little to get it past his wrists. Ruth takes the opportunity to admire his chest, running her eyes and hands over it in appreciation. His shoulders are broad, and his chest is surprisingly free of hair and littered with old scars, and although at first glance he looks out of shape, she can tell that there's real strength lying hidden below the surface. Besides, she loves his imperfection, both in his character and his body. It's part of what makes him Harry, her Harry.

She brings her lips forward to kiss the puckered skin of an old scar on his left shoulder. She knows that it must be where Tom shot him. How well she remembers the phone call telling her of his injury and Tom's apparent betrayal, and then going to the hospital and making up that story about them being lovers, while all the while wishing that it was the truth. She hears Harry gasp as her lips make contact with his skin, and it encourages her to go on, planting open mouthed kisses against his chest and letting her tongue slide across his skin as her hands glide firmly over his abdomen and round to his back. Harry finally manages to get his hands free, and reaching round to Ruth's back, he pulls her flush against him as he murmurs words of love into her hair. She's crushed against his broad chest, his arms holding her tightly to him, so she presses her face close to him and inhales deeply, savouring his masculine scent. She feels completely safe in his arms, something she hasn't felt since she was a child, and it warms her from within and ignites a stronger passion inside her.

He trails kisses down to her ear, causing her to moan in anticipation as he approaches. He loves the way she responds to him, and especially how sensitive her ears are. All he has to do is bring his mouth close to one of them, and it makes her desire build to the point where she becomes bold and passionate, and quite unlike the Ruth he sees everyday at work. This passionate, hot, aroused Ruth is his, just his, he thinks possessively, and no one else gets to see her.

“Come to bed, Ruth,” he murmurs in a low voice, and she moans, pressing herself against him. He smiles at the effect he's having on her, and then pressing his lips against her ear, he plunges his tongue into it.

She feels the tension inside her abdomen begin to build as desire twists through her and her brain is flooded by passion, blocking out everything else. Her hands slide down to his bum, pulling him closer against her as she raises herself onto her toes and presses herself forward, moaning his name. She feels him against her abdomen, all hard and ready for her, and she unconsciously grinds her pelvis against him. Then he moves his attention to her neck and jaw, and she shifts her weight onto her heels so she can unbuckle his belt. She releases the buckle and then the button and zip of his trousers, sliding her hand over his hardened length and stroking him through his cotton underwear. She feels his cock jerk in her hand as he groans and grips her shoulders tightly, tilting his head back and inhaling sharply. She smiles at his reaction and continues her gentle exploration with more confidence, pulling him out of his boxer shorts and admiring his size and shape, amazed at how thick and large he is, and how beautiful. Then she slides her hands through the opening in his shorts to caress his balls, making him swear and grip her shoulders tighter.

“You're beautiful,” she murmurs as she strokes him gently. She's feeling bolder than she's ever felt before, not just with Harry, but with anyone in her entire life. Her arousal is such that it leaves no room for self-doubt or self-consciousness. It's a surprisingly liberating experience, and she takes full advantage of it as she trails kisses down his chest towards his groin.

Harry's unable to think straight right now as her hands and then her mouth roam over his erection, caressing, pressing, massaging, licking and sucking him until he almost loses control. She slides him into her mouth, taking him completely inside until he hits the back of her throat before sucking gently as she lets him slide back out. “Ruth,” he moans as she licks the swollen tip of his cock and then blows on it lightly. He gasps and growls in a deep, throaty voice, “Fuck, Ruth. What are you doing to me?”

She cups his tight sac, pulling it gently back, delaying his release and licking the pearly drops that seep from the tip of his penis. She loves his taste and heady smell, and she can't stop herself from sucking him back into her mouth again, even though she knows that he's almost reached the point of no return.

“Don't,” he moans, and reluctantly, she releases him, making her way back up his chest with gentle kisses and caresses, and as she stands up, the towel falls from around her body, but she no longer cares.

Squeezing his eyes shut, gritting his teeth tightly, and taking deep breaths through his nose, he manages to deny himself. As he contracts his pelvic floor muscles and presses the tip of his cock to hold back, he feels an orgasmic wave travel through him like an electric current, and it makes him groan out loud. Briefly he wonders if this is how men achieve multiple orgasms. He's read about them, but he's always thought that it's a load of rubbish. Perhaps he needs to investigate this further, he thinks. But not now. Now is all about Ruth.

Harry opens his eyes and his gaze falls on her naked breasts. They're perfect mounds of cream coloured flesh, topped by rose peaks that harden into beads as he watches. He raises his hands towards them, but before he can touch them, she murmurs, “Come to bed, Harry,” and turning around, walks over to the bed and throws back the covers before getting in.

He watches her graceful body move towards the bed with lust filled eyes, and as soon as she disappears under the covers, he quickly removes the rest of his clothes and gets into bed next to her. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he moves closer to her and pulls her into his embrace, kissing her cheeks softly in an attempt to slow down their pace. He wants to make this last for her, and even through he knows he won't last as long as he would like, he's determined to do the best he can and give her pleasure first. Her right arm wraps around him and strokes his back as he kisses and sucks on her neck and shoulder. Her hand slides down and caresses his bum lightly, and then she squeezes it experimentally, a small laugh escaping her throat.

“What are you laughing at?” he asks in a husky voice.

“You've no idea how much, or for how long, I've wanted to do that,” she sighs.

“Well, Ruth,” he murmurs as he trails kisses along her jaw to her neck, “all you had to do was ask.”

She chuckles and says, “I was hoping I wouldn't have to ask any more.”

“You don't if I can do this whenever I want,” he whispers near her ear and then plunges his tongue in swiftly.

She moans and presses herself against him, squeezing his bum again and wrapping her right leg around his tightly. He pulls back and smiles in satisfaction, before trailing kisses down her neck towards her right shoulder.

“Deal,” she breathes. “So long as you promise never to do that in public.”

He chuckles, and lifting his head to look at her, he replies with a mischievous glint in his eye, “And if I do?”

“Then I might retaliate and do this,” she whispers and runs the fingers of her left hand along the inside of his thigh and up across his balls to his shaft.

He swears loudly and presses himself into her hand as his left arm wraps tightly around her shoulders and pulls her against him. He places his head alongside hers and kisses the top of her shoulders near her neck, before opening his mouth and biting the same spot playfully, and then soothing her skin with his tongue, making her groan.

“Ruth,” he murmurs, “I want you so much.”

“I'm yours, Harry,” she answers. “All yours.”

He groans and adds huskily, “What kind of contraception do you want to use?”

“None,” she murmurs. “I'm near the end of my cycle.”

He freezes, and lifting his head to look at her, he replies in a hushed voice, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she answers with a blush, “I promise I'm not trying to trick you into becoming a father again, Harry.”

“I wasn't thinking that,” he says quickly.

“I trust you,” she murmurs and kisses him softly.

“Christ, Ruth!” he exclaims. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Everything,” she replies and pulls him towards her for a passionate kiss.

He rolls her onto her back as the heat rises between them again. He kisses and caresses her everywhere, loving her and learning what turns her on, giving her all of his attention and using all his skill to make her burn. His hands cup her breasts gently, and lift and press them together as he murmurs words of love and admiration. He nuzzles into her cleavage and inhales her sweet, feminine scent, before he begins to lick and kiss her ivory skin as she makes soft incoherent sounds of pleasure. His mouth continues to caress her breasts as his fingers slide down to her tender heat, gliding along her delicate folds, feeling her wetness before his index finger slides inside her opening, pushing slowly into her deepest part. She moans and bucks under his touch, whimpering in disappointment when he slides it back out, and groaning when he enters her again, this time with two fingers. His thumb brushes against her clit and she arches her back towards him.

“More,” she whispers.

Her eyes are closed, but his are open wide and dark with desire, taking in all the nuisances of her movements and expressions, storing them away in his mind. He presses his thumb down harder as he curls his fingers inside her and wrenches a soft cry from her lips. She's panting now, writhing below his touch, but he doesn't let her come yet. He brings her near the brink again and again, before letting her drop back down away from the edge, teasing her and making her beg for more. He replaces his hand with his mouth, running his tongue along her labia and dipping it into her core, before rubbing it over her clitoris, sucking on it gently, and loving every minute of it, her taste, her smell, the moans of pleasure he elicits from her. She pushes up against him, pulling his head towards her with her hands, groaning and directing him with abrupt, almost harsh demands as she seeks relief from the ache radiating from between her legs. He slides his fingers into her again, pressing the palm of his other hand against her abdomen and rubbing his thumb over her sensitive mound. She cries out in pleasure, and when she finally comes, it's spectacular to watch and gratifying to hear her almost scream his name in ecstasy.

It's the most incredible sensation she's ever felt. She's totally overwhelmed by the waves of ecstasy washing over her, and she falls more deeply in love with him for loving her enough to take the time to bring her to completion like this. It's the first time in her life that she hasn't had to fake it. “I want you inside me,” she murmurs as she opens her eyes a few seconds later and gives him a long, lingering look, full of love and devotion.

The aftershocks of her orgasm are still rolling through her as he parts her legs, and he presses himself against her, sliding in a little way before pausing to let her adjust to him. Her eyes drift closed again and she moans, moving against him and squeezing him tightly with her muscles, trying to suck him in deeper. He presses in further, sliding easily into her slick heat until he's completely sheathed in her, stretching her deliciously and filling her all the way up. She feels so good, so snug, warm and just perfect, and part of him can't quite believe that he's here with her, after all this time, that he's inside her. He's imagined this moment so many times, and yet his normally very active imagination hasn't managed to do it justice.

“Look at me,” he says gently, and she opens her eyes.

“Harry,” she whispers as their gazes meet, and she manages to infuse all the love, desire, satisfaction, and happiness she feels at their union into that one word, and he knows that he will never be able to hear his name again from her lips without picturing her like this, her chestnut hair spread across his pillow, her cheeks flushed with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes dark, blue orbs radiating love and desire.

“I love you, Ruth Evershed,” he says and presses a soft, loving kiss to her lips.

“And I love you, Sir Henry James Pearce,” she replies with a smile, running her fingers through his curls and across his strong shoulders.

He begins to move, gently and slowly at first, gliding in and out as she opens up to him a little more with every stroke, giving them both time to adjust and enjoy each other. Their gazes remain locked together as they move, finding a rhythm that suits them both. When he feels they're both ready for more, he pulls himself almost out and makes a few shallow thrusts before plunging in deeply and making her cry out and grip his arms tightly. He repeats his motions, knowing full well how good this will feel for her. He knows all the tricks in the book and a few more besides. He leans over her and takes one rose coloured nipple in his mouth as he alternates his thrusts, shallow, deep, deep, shallow. He moves his mouth to the inside of her elbow, a place he's discovered is as sensitive as her ears, and than he moves back to her other nipple, all the while continuing with his rhythm of a few shallow strokes and then a deep one. A deep knot of desire forms in her core, and she moans as he strokes it with every deep thrust, causing it to build in intensity until she's aching and needing in a way she's never experienced before.

“Harder,” she moans, and he obliges, powering into her harder, faster and deeper. Her hands grip his arms tightly as she tilts her pelvis up to meet him and murmurs his name over and over again as the threads of desire inside her coil tighter and tighter together.

The rhythm he's set is pushing him too close to the edge, so he slows down and murmurs in her ear, “Roll over.”

He pulls out of her and helps her to move until she's lying on her stomach before he presses into her again. Then he begins to move once more, changing the angle and rhythm of his thrusts as he kisses and bites the back of her neck and shoulders, making her groan. “You feel so good, Ruth,” he growls. “So soft, so perfect.”

His balls glide against her legs that are slick with sweat, and he feels the tell tale tingling in them, telling him that he can't last long now. He changes the angle once more as he slides a hand under her abdomen and uses his fingers to stroke her clit. She moans and presses herself against them, but his angle is awkward, and a moment later, he feels her fingers push his out of the way as she works to help him. Pulling out his hand, he reposition himself on top of her and begins to pound into her in earnest, encouraged by her grunts of pleasure as her breathing becomes heavier and she nears her climax. “That's right, Ruth,” he moans. “Come, my love. Come with me.”

Soon he's no longer able to hold back as he propels himself towards his own release. It hits him hard, and a harsh animal sound escapes from deep in his chest as he tumbles over, spilling his seed deep inside her. He manages to hold himself together until he feels her contract around him moments later, squeezing him tightly as the waves of her climax overtake her. Then he thrusts a couple of times more, before he collapses on his side, pulling her with him and holding her close to his heaving chest.

 

* * *

 

Bliss, everything is bliss. He could no more move right now, than he could run a Marathon. His whole body is tingling in the aftermath of his orgasm, and he cannot recall the last time he felt like this, completely elated as if he's been transported to a different reality where Harry Pearce is a cheerful, happy, optimistic man. He never wants to move from here.

“Harry,” she murmurs, “that was... perfect.”

“Mmmm,” he hums contentedly, too lost in the euphoria he's experiencing to attempt to form words.

They remain silent for a little while, savouring each other and the sensations and joy they feel. Then Ruth murmurs in a voice laced with regret, “I'm sorry, Harry.”

“What for?” he asks in surprise, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look at her.

“For taking so long to get here,” she answers quietly.

He smiles and murmurs, “It's okay, Ruth. I'm just happy we're here now.” Then after a short pause he adds, “I do wish I was a few years younger though, so that I could be gearing up for round two right now.”

“Harry,” she replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice, “after that performance, you have _nothing_ to worry about. I'm more than satisfied. I've never experienced anything like it before. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm dreaming.” She turns in his arms to face him and adds, “Though I have to say that my dreams have never been this good.”

He smiles and leans forward, kissing her nose lightly before he replies, “This is no dream, Ruth. A dream could never be this perfect.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs and kisses his lips softly.

“Any time,” he smiles lazily. “It really was my pleasure, Ruth.”

She chuckles and presses her lips to his again. Then she shuffles close to him and cuddles into his side, draping her arm across his chest, caressing the damp curls at the back of his head, and weaving her leg through his. He runs his fingers across her back, toying with her hair and humming contentedly.

“Happy?” she asks with a smile.

“Blissful,” he replies.

They're silent, and after a few moments, their hands still and their eyes close as they begin to drift off to sleep. Something at the back of his mind, however, won't let Harry fall asleep just yet. It takes him a little while to figure out what it is, but then he opens his eyes and reaches over to the bedside table. He picks up his phone and turns it on before checking to see if there are any messages.

“You turned it off?!” Ruth asks in surprise as his movements pull her out of her slumber.

“Yes,” he answers determinedly, placing the phone back on the bedside table and turning to look at her. “After Scarlet's interruption downstairs, I wasn't going to let _anything_ come between us tonight. It isn't every day that I have the woman I've loved and desired for years in my bedroom,” he adds with a smile as he looks into her eyes.

She smiles and replies, “Well, perhaps we can remedy that.”

His face turns serious as he murmurs, “I hope so, Ruth. I really hope so.” Then seeing the worry that clouds her eyes momentarily, he adds hastily, “We can take this as slowly as you need, Ruth. Really. Even having you with me once a year would be better than nothing though I have to say that I'll find it exceedingly difficult to wait that long.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she says, giving him a grateful smile, and then she adds with a mischievous grin, “After tonight, I'm sure _I'll_ find it hard to wait more than a _week_.”

“That's good to hear,” he replies with a smile and kisses her forehead before murmuring, “Now go to sleep. It's late.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she whispers as she lies back down on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his chest.

“Goodnight, Ruth,” he replies as he reaches over and switches off the light.

Barely a minute passes before they're both sound asleep in each other's arms.

 


End file.
